Mirrors
by seahorse7
Summary: But what if we were to look at this world through our twisted mirror? What would we see, dear reader? Are those whose morals we seem sure of still the same? Would the lines between good and evil even still exist as we know it?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a mirrorverse story. I have no excuse for this other than I have been reading way to many mirrorverse fics lately, and a particularly evil plot bunny bit me when I was reading _The Siege. _

**_Wendy_**_: I'm in the mirror universe. ... A parallel universe where everyone who's good is evil, and evil is good. It's like __that episode__ of __Star Trek__ where Spock had a goatee and Chekov tried to —_

_ -__The Middleman_, "The Palindrome Reversal Palindrome"

Look into a mirror, and you see a reflection of yourself. Is that reflection simply just a reflection of your appearance, or is it something more? Is it some other being, some other you that is both the same and yet different? Is this mirror a window into some other Twilight Zone-esque, alternate reality, where another you exists, but is twisted, skewed in some way you cannot begin to comprehend?

You are, dear reader, probably quite familiar with the war between noble Guardians and their myriad of allies against the evil Pure Ones. Who can forget the great achievements of the Band and the Chaw of Chaws? The noble Soren, the jaunty Twilight, the knowledgeable Otulissa, the wise Ezylryb? How about the dark and twisted Nyra, the evil-turned-good Uglamore, and fiendish Metal Beak, Soren's own brother? The list goes on and on, with owls and allies alike taking their turn in the great chronicle of the owl kingdoms and the Great Tree.

But what if we were to look at this world through our twisted mirror? What would we see, dear reader? Are those whose morals we seem sure of still the same? Would the lines between good and evil even still exist as we know it? Let us take a flight over this reflected land, dear reader, and I shall tell you of what we see.

We look over a landscape that still looks the same as before, but that is unsurprising. For it is the nature of a mirror to reflect physical appearances, and it is no different here. The Great Tree still exists in the middle of the Hoolemere Sea, and the forest kingdom of Tyto still exists to the south of it, past the Beaks.

Drawing closer, we see a hollow in a fir tree, home to a family of Barn Owls, the Albas to be precise. There is a mother and father, and their two sons, as well as an egg about to hatch. One son dreams of battle and glory, and the other dreams of the legends his father tells in the wee hours of the morning. A blind, rosy-colored snake cheerfully keeps house for this family. What about this scene is different? Nothing in outward appearances, for as I said before, a mirror reflects the appearances of what it is shown.

The family is focused on the egg, which is just beginning to hatch. Out tumbles a female chick, whom the mother promptly names Eglantine. One brother loves her immediately, and the other turns away, seeing nothing but competition in the nest for his parents' already limited attention. They do not seem to like him as much, he has surmised, as he is always questioning the status quo.

After he and his brother settle to sleep after their branching practice, the mother and father start to talk quietly in that way grown owls do when they don't want their young ones to know of things that could ruin their innocence. They speak of owlet and egg snatchings, of owls disappearing into the night without a trace, of their fears for their own little family. Sounds familiar, right?

It is here that the minute differences in our mirrorverse start to emerge. We hear not only the words "egg stealing", "owlet snatching", but also "Guardians" and "Ga'hoole," used in conjunction with these terrible phrases. Further eavesdropping reveals a truly awful revelation: these are not the noble Guardians we know and love. These so-called Guardians patrol the owl kingdoms and "keep the peace" by any means necessary, which includes "disposing" of dissenters. Remember the earlier mention of owls disappearing without a trace? Perhaps these are the culprits? More than likely, but no sane owl here would ever admit that. Eggs and owlets disappearing without a trace; most likely to be turned into future Guardians, loyal to the cause and willing to enforce any laws and edicts set down by the High King of the Great Tree, whose ancestor seized power in the time of hagsfiends and natchmagen. He defeated the noble hagsfiends, who were some of the only beings with any power to resist him.

Noble hagsfiends? To use those two words in one sentence seems blasphemous. What kind of reflection is this that we are seeing? Remember, dear reader, that our mirror is twisted. It likes to take what we see and turn it on its head, even if we don't notice it at first. If our mirror is twisted in such a manner, then what else will it show us?

How about a Great Horned and her loyal Western Screech lieutenant who work tirelessly in the canyons to snatch back the owlets and eggs taken by the Guardians? What of their goals? To train their adopted sons and daughters, and hopefully one day have an army large enough to take on the Guardians? Perhaps to understand the terrible power of the flecks that they have in abundance, and why these are so valuable to the Guardians?

What of a mysterious blue owl in a kingdom to the far west, who dreams of a time when his ancestors fought valiantly in a land of ice and snow, even daring to fly over the salty water of the sea? The salty water that could have spelled their doom, and the many for whom it did? An owl, who is drowning in the lush and gorgeous riches that could be considered glaumora by many, but is his own personal hagsmire? A gilded prison, designed by one of those who vanquished his noble ancestors and made them powerless?

What of a small group of owls, who consider themselves pure in gizzard and mind, and who are determined to purify the owl kingdoms of the evil of the Guardians? What of their leader, a beautiful owl, who is said to be descended from the hagsfiends themselves? Their military commander, who grows old and infirm after so many failed battles? The desperation of the group, who pride themselves on their military prowess, as they look for a new leader before the current one expires?

And finally, what of two brothers? One, who is unloved and unwanted, a warrior born but unable to use his gifts? They say we are all hatched to do something, and this one knows he was meant to fight. He has known it ever since he saw the Barn Owl flash by outside his hollow with the battle claws. He longs to test his prowess in battle, but that is forbidden. What of the other, favored brother? The acceptor of the status quo, the believer in all of the legends, many fabricated, some forbidden, that his father tells? The one who is devoted to his sister, almost to the point of fanatic obsession?

We see in this twisted reflection a owl world that waits. It needs only the right catalyst to set events into motion. In our world, it was the evil of one brother who pushed the other out of their hollow home to die.

Like our world, the catalyst that sets the momentous events into motion begins with the idea of death, the death of an owlet in the Alba family. This family seems either blessed or accursed by Glaux, depending on the point of view.

Except in this world, there is a death, not a supposed one. A band of rebels attacks a patrol of Guardians in an insane, last-ditch maneuver as they are cornered after a long chase in front of a fir tree. One brother, who is still in the nest watching his beloved younger sister while the parents and other brother are out hunting, are caught in the middle. Confused and terrified, the two young owls try to escape the bloodbath outside their hollow. They make good their escape, but suddenly a terrible cry rents the air.

It is Eglantine, as she falls down, down, down, to the forest floor below, mortally wounded. She has been struck by a Guardian by mistake. Her maddened brother did not see this. All he sees is the rebel owl that valiantly dives to catch her. Fueled by insane rage, he attacks, and a new Guardian is born. However, her other brother, returning from the hunt, sees the truth of the attack unfolding before his horrified eyes, and watches as his seemingly gentle brother kills his sister's would-be rescuer.

The last bit our twisted mirror shows us is two stony-eyed and stony-gizzarded owls, as they sit on the branches of their childhood fir. Rage burns in the eyes of both, but for different reasons. They speak of what they saw, and begin to argue heatedly. Their argument quickly turns to violence, and after trading blows, one of them wings north. The other sits and momentarily mourns the loss of his family and his innocence, then straightens. He is stronger than this, a born warrior. With a fierce look burning in his eye, he takes to the skies towards parts unknown. His fate is with the winds, but he does not care. Because, for the first time in his life, his gizzard is telling him he flying the right path, and for the first time in his life, he feels free!


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Not much to say here other than I'm not really sure where to take this from here...The oneshot I originally wrote didn't seem to me like it wanted to stay as a oneshot, and so it grew somehow into this._

Jagged spires of reddish-brown stone slash at the sky, awash in a glowing red light of sunrise that makes it appear that they are bathed in blood. Not much grows here. It is a forbidding landscape, a tough place to eke out an existence. Most owls, indeed, most raptors of all kinds, avoid this place. Why, you ask? This area does not offer much to a predatory bird searching for prey. Most prey species that live here are tough and stringy, without the meat or flavor of their eastern woodland counterparts, even more lean and tasteless than their desert and grassland cousins. Their lean condition reflects their environment-not a single bit of nutrient is wasted on fat in their bodies.

The badlands are barren and ruthless, which is a trait that is transferred to the few predatory species that call this area home. The rattlers in this area are said to be ten times more venomous, and ten times meaner, than their desert cousins. A Burrowing Owl once wrote that he would rather face off against twenty Kuneer rattlers than a single one from the canyons. Wind currents are treacherous, as they howl through the needles. Deadly vortexes are created, ones that will slam a bird into bare rock, the ground, or impale them on the jagged cliffs. Little water runs through these canyons except in little rivulets in the canyon bottoms.

Come summer, this area is baked in the sun and almost all water dries up, the few plants either go dormant or die, and the native animals struggle even harder to survive. Fall and spring bring rains that flood the canyons, turning them into foaming brown rapids of death, sweeping away anything and everything in their paths and carving the twisting canyons even deeper. Winter, especially the nights, brings little snow, freezing rain, and low temperatures. Freezing winds blast through the twisting maze of rocks, chilling any unlucky creature without shelter to the bones.

It is in the bloodred sunrise that a large owl sits upon one of the jagged spires as she watches the moon slip from the sky and the sun start to rise over the canyonlands. She is a large, rather ragged Great Horned Owl. A patch over one wing, a reminder of a battle with the Guardians that nearly claimed her life. She may be uneducated, and may not be a true warrior, but she is a bitter and capable fighter who fights fiercely to protect what she considers hers.

A soft flutter draws her attention as Jatt, one of her most trusted lieutenants and adopted nephew, drops down next to her. He and his brother Jutt are identical twin brothers from a single egg, a extreme rarity among birds, which also makes them extremely difficult to tell apart. The brothers do often seem to be on the same brainwave, such as finishing each other's sentences and alternating speaking, and are rarely seen apart. Skench found them as young owlets abandoned by both their parents and the Guardians, for twins are rare enough in the owl world that they are considered to be an extremely ill omen, especially to those who dare to consort with them. The embittered Great Horned had brought both of them back to the canyonlands where she lived. The two had attached themselves to her, and she ended up raising both of them. They were the reason she and Spoorn had established the Orphanage to snatch back and provide for owlets who were stolen by the Guardians, and hopefully give them a better life. The twins were the anchor that brought her back from the brink, the cliff she had been teetering on so close to becoming the very same as the monsters that she despised.

"Greetings, Amita," Jatt greets her in his deep, thrumming voice characteristic of his species. "My brother and his group have just returned from Kuneer and I and mine from Tyto. We both managed to rescue ten owlets from the Guardians between us."

Skench nods in approval and answers, "Excellent work, Lieutenant. You have done well." She will never directly admit the pride she feels in the owl that she considers her son, or how proud she is in the owls he and his brother have become.

An expression of slight confusion and concern comes over Jatt's face. He and his brother are often expressionless, never really showing their feelings, and for such an expression to come over Jatt's face means he is very, very worried about something. Skench waits patiently for her adopted son to spill what is bothering him. "One of the owlets that we brought in is a just-fledged Barn Owl. We found him on the ground, starving and half-mad, raving about something or other. I think that the Guardians must have killed his family."

Skench turns her head to look directly at Jatt, "We must give this owlet special care then. Place him in Finny's pit-she has great experience in dealing with traumatized young owlets and should be able to help him."

Finny, an old Snowy owl, is originally from the Northern Kingdoms. In another life, she was a politician in the infamous Kielian League, one whose silver tongue could charm anybird, and she used it to her advantage. She was the one who helped Moss and the others unite the warring clans in the north against the Ice Talons. It was after the Kielian League's greatest warrior, a owl she had trusted greatly, had allied himself with the Guardians who had killed her mate and two hatchlings, that she left. She eventually ended up here, in this desperate place where only the desperate go. Her former experience as a mother, and her charming demeanor that makes owls immediately feel safe and calm around her, is what makes her the best at dealing with troubled owlets like this traumatized young Barn Owl.

Jatt nods, and then flies off to take care of things. He, and his brother, are owls of few words, even though they have the most lovely thrumming voices that can cause vibrations down to an bird's hollow bones. Skench nods in approval as she watches him go. Jatt is more than competent; he will handle this problem well.

She sits for a while longer and watches the bloodred sunrise turn to a golden yellow as the sun continue to rise over the canyonlands. As soon as the sun starts to rise over the two spires of rock that have been nicknamed "The Great Horns" for their supposed resemblance to the distinctive ear tufts of her species, she takes flight and returns to the cleft in the rock she calls home. A pair of yellow eyes peers out of the welcome darkness of the cleft. It is Spoorn, a Western Screech Owl, that is her equal partner in practically everything. She has often wondered why Glaux has cursed her so. The one owl that she would have gladly taken as a mate, the one that complements her the best, isn't even the same species as her. In fact, they aren't even the same height. She must always look down on him, never as an equal.

Skench doesn't have many memories of her parents or the rest of her family-they were taken by the Guardians when she was young. However, she does remember how her sister had found a wonderful mate and had two sons. This memory has stayed with Skench her whole life. No matter what twisted depravity, personal hell, or agonizing torture she has had to endure, the dream of having a mate and family is what has kept her going over the years. But now, that dream is all but dead. Skench is old, and not getting any younger. She is too old to have eggs anymore, and she knows that no one will want a mate with a history such as hers.

Spoorn pauses, and then speaks, hesitant to interrupt her train of thought, "There have been more raids on the Guardians in the Forest of Tyto."

Skench cocks her head as she considers this, and then scoffs, "Most likely more of those guerilla bands of fighters. Probably those out of Ambala have spilled over into Tyto. The two kingdoms do share a border, so I wouldn't be surprised."

Spoorn shakes his head, "No, these raids are much too coordinated to be that ragtag bunch. These are _planned_, Skench. Far too well-planned. Whomever came up with them, they know fighting, and they know how to use their forces and _win._ The Guardians have been losing owls right and left in Tyto, and they still haven't been able to find the culprits. The owls that have been executing these raids I would be willing to be have a military background. You know Unkgar, the old Great Grey?"

"You mean Unk, the pit guardian?"

"Yes, he was once a member of the Ice Talons who turned hireclaw and then ended up here. He was a drill sergeant back in the day, and helped with tactical. If anyone knows military, it's him. He walked in while me, the twins, and some others were going over several of the raids, and he was amazed at how well strategized they were. He told me that they can't be isolated incidents. 'This is something bigger,' he told me. 'This is somebody who knows what they are doing, and are aiming to do the most damage and make the biggest inconveniences to the Guardians that they can. This is also somebody who knows how to fade into the shadows and cover their tracks.' We haven't been able to get much more information. It isn't just because we're so isolated out here, but the truth is, there just isn't any information about this group out there. Maybe if we could put out some more scouts..."

Skench contemplates this, and then says, "There is no information because they do not want to be found, Spoorn. Unlike us, they do not have the inhospitality and dangers of the canyonlands to help them keep their anonymity and protect them from the evils of the owl world. They are forced to hide in plain sight, with none of the protections that we take for granted. If more information is available about them, it will be because they allow it to be spread. And if they wish for contact with us, they will be the ones to initiate contact, not us. All we can do is sit and wait."

Spoorn sighs, and then comments, "It seems that all we have done over the past seasons is wait. Do you never get tired of it? Do you never wish that there is some catalyst that will make it all change?"

To this Skench has no reply. The two sit in companionable silence for awhile, and then eventually drop off to sleep. They are awakened around noon by the rumble of thunder in the distance, one of the summer storms that happen so often in the afternoons.

Skench looks at Spoorn, and then moves towards the entrance, looking up at the darkening sky. Right on cue, two forms with distinctive ear tufts come arrowing out of the sky. Skench backs up into their hollow as Jatt and Jutt come streaking into land at the entrance to the cleft. By the time they have composed themselves, she has already made it back to her sleeping area, and Spoorn is casually pretending to sleep over on his preferred perch. As Jatt and Jutt come filing in, they appear perfectly calm.

It is all an act, of course, one played over many times, so well-practiced that it is second nature. None of the owls present will admit what they consider a weakness. Skench and Spoorn will never admit that they care for the twins, and Jatt and Jutt will never admit that they are terrified of the storms and still seek shelter from their fears with the owls who raised them. The pasts of both Skench and Spoorn make them wary of showing care towards another, and they have, regrettably, passed this same fear along to the twins.

"We were caught," Jatt says.

"In the storm Amita," Jutt finishes.

"We thought that,"

"We might take shelter,"

"And of course your hollow,"

"Was the closest place to do so."

Their odd, alternating speech requires patience to listen to, but Skench doesn't mind. She simply nods, and settles back in her resting place as the two fall asleep. Spoorn opens one eye, looks at the two, and then falls back asleep as well. She looks out over the three of them, when a thought strikes her. She has, after all these years, found what she always wanted when she was younger. Does she not have a mate and two sons, in all but name?

She moves to the entrance again, and looks up to the storming sky. "You sure do have a twisted sense of humor, Glaux," she mutters. A strange feeling of being watched comes over her, making the small feathers on the back of her neck prickle. She looks down, and sees Finny's group passing below her on their way back to the shelter of their pit. One, a young Barn Owl barely fledged, is looking up at her. He would be a handsome young owl, if it were not for his dead looking eyes. They stare at her with something akin to hatred. A feeling of absolute dread wracks Skench's gizzard as she stares at the young owl. She isn't sure what the feeling of dread is warning of, but she does know one thing. She has found part of Spoorn's hoped-for catalyst. And all she can fervently hope for is that this catalyst will change things for the better, and that her adopted family will come out of it unscathed ...and alive.


	3. Chapter 3

_There's a battle outside,_

_And it is ragin',_

_It'll soon shake your windows,_

_And rattle your walls,_

_For the times they are a-changin'._

_ -Bob Dylan, "_The Times They Are A-Changin"

**A/N: You can thank D3athrider0908 for making me finally get my lazy self motivated and finish this chapter. See end of chapter for notes.**

_In the ancient times, magen was as well known to owlkind as the hunting of prey. It was a powerful and effective weapon when wielded correctly, but in the talons of those who didn't know how to use it, or those who wished to use it for dark purposes, it was a devastating and terrifying force of destruction. The only way for owlkind to control it was through the use of various artifacts, and great wars were waged over control of these. _

_Many lands were rendered uninhabitable by the misuse of magen and these wars. This was the fate of the kingdom of Byrth'gar. It lay to the west of the Nyrth'gar kingdoms, and was a prosperous and wealthy kingdom with many who lived there. The old king died, and his successor, Eridor, was greedy. He used his father's artifact in an attempt to vanquish his enemies. However, he did not know how to use it correctly, and the green fire that burned at the core of the artifact burned not only the enemy, but his own lands and people as well. The fire was said to burn for decades, and when it abated, it left behind a land covered in volcanoes and ash, uninhabitable by all but the most desperate of creatures. It was beyond all hope of returning to its former glory._

_It was during these endless wars that a single owl was said to have gone to the top of the highest mountain of the H'rathian chain in the far north, and sent up a prayer to Glaux, or any god that might be listening, to end the wars and banish the magen. It was not Glaux who appeared to him, but Corvus, the god of the crows. He offered a way for the owl to control magen, but for a price. The owl, desperate, agreed. When he came down from the mountain, he was shocked to find that he was now a crossbreed, some sort of owl and crow hybrid. Others of his kind were horrified by what he had done. But, the "crowl" found that he could control the magen without the use of any artifacts._

_Over time he learned to control his powers, and refined the studies of what he called nachtmagen. He learned the fyngrot, a way of paralyzing his enemies; the powers of the "half-hags," small , symbiotic creatures who lived in his feathers whose venom had not only toxic but also curative properties; and his one weakness: saltwater. He would go on to found the Knights of Darkness, the _Hega'fyndas, _which would later be shortened to "Hagsfiends" by those who could not speak Krakish. He was Excilon, the first of his kind. The first hagsfiend..._

There was a great battle in times past when the Knights fought a young upstart who had gained control of the Byrth'garian artifact and attempted to use it to vanquish all magic. Hoole had started with noble intentions, but the ember had corrupted him. The hagsfiends had heard of the hatching of the young owl from the prophecies, and knew that if he got ahold of the ember, all would be lost. Darkness would fall over the land, for the ember was not a force of good, but one of an insidious darkness that would consume the bearer slowly, until they completely lost all sense of sanity or nobility. Eridor had finally realized this danger in times past, and had consigned to ember to one of the many volcanoes. He had also worked out a deal with the dire wolves, and they were to guard this last artifact from any who might take it. Hoole did not know of this danger, and he was too proud to recognize it as it consumed him. He only returned the ember to the Sacred Ring when he was in the last few seasons of his life, and then it was only out of a selfish desire to keep others from wielding it.

_Legends and stories, if only they were so, _the large female _Tyto alba_ who sits looking over the ravine thinks to herself. She is considered to be one of the most beautiful of her species, a gorgeous creature with eyes as black as the darkest night and a face as white as the full moon. She was hatched upon such a night-her first memory is that of the moon as it slid out from the shadow of the Earth and its light first touched upon her facial disk. To look at her, one might say that her face captured the light of the moon itself. She knows however, that her light is, like the moon's, only borrowed. The power she possesses is not her own.

An owl hatched on the night of an eclipse of the full moon such as herself is said to be either blessed to be great in spirit or be consumed by unspeakable evil. Blessed or cursed, they say, with no line in between. But she knows the bitter truth. The Nyrolian owls are all cursed, every last one of them.

She is descended from the adopted daughter of the hagsfiend Ygryk, the only survivor of a once mighty race. There were many in the old times who had fought bravely, such as the Great Sky Dragon, Penryck, who was said to be as mighty a warrior as Excilon himself, and Kreeth, the old genius of the Ice Narrows. Kreeth had always loved to experiment, and knew many ways of harnessing nachtmagen that others never dreamed of. She also loved to create new life, such as the "puffowl," a half puffin and half owl, who was by all accounts, a lovely and charming creature.

Nyra is a proud owl, and proud of her heritage. Her distant ancestor was a Barn Owl who was blessed by Ygryk for offering her and her mate shelter when they fled to the southern reaches of the Forest Kingdom of Tyto many years ago to escape the terrible persecution that Hoole had brought down upon their peoples. Hagsfiends and Barn Owl kind alike were massacred even after the war, in a time when owls would turn upon each other out of fear. Nyra knows the stigma that most owls even now have against her kind, a relic of times past that the Guardians have done their best to foster.

She sits at the top of a tree on the side of a deep and narrow ravine, a place almost indistinguishable from the rest of the forest. This place is only the newest in a long line of places that the Tytonic Union of Pure Ones have called home. Even from her earliest days, Nyra recalls moving, and lots of it. A dry, rattling cough can be heard from further down in the valley. It is the High Tyto, the General of the Pure Ones' army. He is old, for a Barn Owl, and has been showing signs of his great age more than ever now. His feathers are almost all pure white, and he can barely fly. He can no longer hunt, but he still insists upon flying out every day and inspecting the troops and young recruits, as well as talking and listening to them. When he finally does go to meet the Grand Tyto Most Pure, he will be sorely missed.

Almost all young owls are inducted into the ranks of the troops. The military atmosphere of the group is both a relic of Nyra's militant ancestors, and one of necessity. It is much easier to pack up and move the large group when everyone knows exactly what they are supposed to do, and does it with military precision and efficiency. Even the camp followers, the owls who are not in the army such as the old ones, the mates, and the very young, all know their place and exactly what to do in certain situations. It has been drilled in them since hatching, and it is what has kept the Pure Ones alive and free for so long.

Many Pure Ones do have a stigma against other owlkind, and it stems from a long-ago conflict when Barn Owls and their kin allied with those against Hoole and lost. The Barn Owls had mostly fled to the far reaches of the south, and their numbers had dropped dramatically. Her ancestors were the ones who welcomed the last hagsfiend and her mate with open wings, and had been "blessed" by their kindness. Ygryk, who was weak and dying from her long flight, had worked one last great bit of magic, and made it so the Nyrolian Owls were so affected by the eclipse of the full moon. The details themselves are unclear, but the Ygryk told her ancestor that the spirit of the hagsfiends' magic would live within the Nyrolian owls, and would reveal itself when it was needed most. Shortly after, she breathed her last due to her exhaustion and horrific injuries. Her mate Pleek was not far behind her. The Nyrolian owls were never sure the true extent of how the hagsfiends' magic affected them, or quite what Ygryk had meant, but they did notice some changes. The burden rests upon their wings, and with the shrinking of their family, the Guardians have grown in power.

Nyra herself is old, much, much older than any normal one of her species. Nyrolian owls will often live up to five times longer than normal owls, and Nyra herself has seen three High Tytos come and go. Hearing the old High Tyto's cough again, it appears that soon she will have seen four. Her family has slowly shrunk over the generations, until it was only her and her two brothers remaining. Both of her brothers had been killed in raids, leaving her as the last of her line. Unless she takes a mate and hatches a chick, she will die the last.

Greater and Lesser Sooties shoot across the ravine, as they mostly serve as messengers and errand runners. Grass Owls and Masked Owls are often on guard duty, and have other duties as well. Barn Owls make up the bulk of the army. The so-called "ladder of pureness" that other owls often accuse them of does exist but not for the reasons the outsiders think it does. Barn Owls tend to be larger and heavier that the other species of Barn Owls, and the Sooties tend to be the smallest. Therefore, it only makes sense that the larger Barn Owls are the heavy fighters and the smaller owls are messengers and light strike forces. And this is also part of the image of their group that has been crafted over the years, a combination of both the information (and misinformation) that they have fed the common owls, and the propaganda program the Guardians have come out with.

They have only just moved to this area, and the construction on the hollows in the cliffs has been going along spectacularly since they had brought in Chickcharney and his specialized group of Bahamian Barn Owls, _Tyto pollens. _There are several very rare Tytos here, which include the Bay Owls, the Ashy-faced Owls and the Red Owls as well as the Bahamian Barns. The Bahamian Barns are perhaps the rarest, being considered all but extinct, and except for their small group, Nyra knows of no other. These large, flightless owls are even more efficient at moving earth than the most productive Burrowing Owl, and they are always the ones who have contributed to creating the Pure Ones' hideouts. Without them, the Pure Ones would never be able to throw up and tear down their settlements as quickly as they do, nor would they be able to hide underground either. One of Nyra's aides, Sasha, is a Oriental Bay Owl, _Phodilus badius, _and her kind come from the far southern islands. Even though they are much smaller than their larger Tyto cousins, and they have strange ear tuft-like projections on their head, no one doubts they have the heart of a true Tyto. Not only do they share the same black eyes and white heart shaped face, they also are just as proud of their lineage and fight just as fiercely as the largest _Tyto alba._ Nyra has never doubted their worth, and she never will.

The most pressing issue on her mind is who will replace the High Tyto when he is gone. There is no one who possesses the drive, the sheer ferocity that is needed to hold such a position of power. There is no one with the _rage_ that is needed to be the High Tyto. The Pure Ones equate rage with courage. They know it is a powerful emotion, one that with the right training and focus, can be forged into one of the most fearsome weapons an owl can possess. It can drive an owl to do extraordinary things. Nyra has become almost desperate to find someone that possesses this drive-for while the High Tyto may be the military leader of the Pure Ones, it is she who really runs the entirety of the group.

A small group of new recruits are drilling under the tutelage of old Kup, a Masked Owl who is jokingly said to be older than Glaux himself. Even Nyra doesn't know his true age-he was old when he first joined the Pure Ones, and that was many, many seasons ago. He does know his fighting though, and he trains good recruits. One of the young owls catches her eye. He seems to fight with a skill and grace that the others lack, a born warrior-which is extremely rare, especially in these times. Having recently joined up, he claims that the Guardians killed his family. While he did show up covered in blood, Nyra doubts that this is all to his story. She knows that there is more that the young owl is not telling them, but she will not pry. The Pure Ones do not look at an owl's past. All they care about is an owl's actions in the present, and the future.

Nyra's attention is abruptly drawn towards Sasha, who is indicating that Chickcharney wishes to speak with her. The great owl pauses, and then launches herself out of the fir. She will ponder this young owl some other day; perhaps with the right training, he will make a decent officer. However, other things occupy her mind. The most pressing has nothing to do with the Pure Ones, but with the curse she carries.

The new recruits look up as the beautiful female soars away. They are all in awe of her, and most all of them secretly wish that she might consider giving one of them the honor of becoming her mate. One dark colored young Barn Owl looks up at her, and, like Skench, Nyra's gaze briefly meets his for a moment. However, unlike his brother's dead eyes, this young owl's eyes are alive. They burn with the force of a raging inferno. He is ready to fight, and has rage deep within his gizzard. The times are changing, and war is coming, soon.

_A/N-This chapter was a beast to write simply because I had to figure out a way to fit the hagsfiends into semi-canon, make it believable, and, of course, make them not evil. And I'm still not happy with this chapter. One more intro chapter, and then I hope to get into more of a story/plotline. Next chapter is Orlando, and I'm still not sure how to work him it yet._

_And if you are wondering about the Oriental Bay Owl, the Ashy-Faced Owl, or _Tyto pollens, _check out wikipedia. They all do (or did) exist, and the Bay Owls are pretty awesome-definitely worth a look, and I think Lasky should have included them. And no, I have no idea if Barn Owls are larger than other species of Tyto._

_And if you caught the reference to another fandom here, have an imaginary internet cookie._


	4. Chapter 4

The next place that our mirror chooses to show is not in the familiar Syrth'gar. It is a land far to the west, a land of great mountains with twisted and gnarled trees that cling grimly to their sides as they fight against the howling wind and bitter cold, a land of perpetual winter, with strange owls that resemble our own in many ways, but are blue. Blue, as if the very cold turned froze them this color, and they never regained their natural browns, whites, and blacks. A land over a sea so large that it is called by these owls the Guanjo-Noh, or Sea of Vastness. Welcome to the Jouzhenkyn, dear readers.

The first visitor here from the Eastern Kingdoms was a young Spotted Owl called Ivar, who dazzled the court and won great favor due to the fantastic contraption that he bore in lieu of a real leg. He spoke of a great owl who had fashioned him a new leg out of metal, after his own Glaux-given one had been removed in a battle. Imagine Ivar's surprise when the very owl who had fashioned his leg had followed him not long after!

Theo. He is known for many things, including being the first blacksmith, but perhaps the most singularly remembered invention that he came up with is the battle claw. No other weapon, not even the ice weapons of the far North, can compare to them in sheer effectiveness in killing. All of this weighed heavily upon the mind of Theo. He had left the Great Tree, knowing that he had invented something that had completely and utterly changed the owl world, and not in a good way. He had simply been trying to help defeat those who had been abusing magen, and instead unleashed something terrible upon the owl world.

Theo hated magen with a passion-it was one of the reasons that his family had been torn apart. His father had left to go fight in the wars over the artifacts, and came back twisted and strange. He was abusive, and often did not seem in his right mind, being especially prone to violent and sudden mood swings. Theo's little brother Shadyk was stunted in growth, and Theo was almost sure that it was a side effect of the magen passed on from his cursed father. He had also lost his favorite uncle to the magen wars. All he saw was how the wars were tearing the owl world apart, and he eventually became so sick of it that he simply left.

Theo was determined to right the wrongs he had wrought. He taught the owls of the Jouzhenkyn how to tame fire for their own uses, but he didn't show them how to craft weapons. Instead, he showed them ways to use it to create, and not to destroy. Never once did he even mention the possiblility of weapons.

Eventually, Theo retreated to a mountain high in the tallest mountains. Few dared to seek him out. Those who did were those who were the purest of the gizzard, and the strongest of heart and will. Hulong Mountain, it came to be called. The Mountain of Time, for it seemed to be timeless, never changing.

Within this mountain, Theo refined his teachings. One of his students was the one who came up with the Danyar, the Way of Noble Gentleness. Theo knew that there would come a day when those in the Owlery would have to defend themselves from those with less than noble intentions. He recognized that not all owls possess gallgrot, and most certainly, there are many who do not possess the willpower to subjugate their natural desire for power. He was the one who encouraged young Meng to develop Danyar, and then promoted her as the first danyk, or teacher of the Danyar. When asked what title he wished to be called, he would simply refer to himself as one with his "H'ryth", which was the leader of the owlery would come to be called.

It was almost a decade after he arrived at the Hulong Mountain, when change arrived in the winds that would test Theo's dedication to his new order and beliefs to the fullest, as well as the faith that the owls of the Jouzhenkyn held within him. A gong was rung in warning as a large group of dark birds descended upon the Mountain like a cloud of dark omen. The majority landed respectfully on the lower platforms below the entrance to the mountain, and showed no hostility towards the pikyus and danyks. Only one, the largest of the lot, detached himself from the main group. Flying upwards, he bowed, and looking at Theo out of his piercing yellow eyes, he introduced himself as Dowager, and he requested sanctuary for himself and his people. A private meeting was held between the two, even as Meng and the rest of the pikyus vehemently voiced their unified concern and dissent to the idea of Theo being alone with _that creature_.

It was some time later that both Dowager and Theo emerged, and of what had transpired between them, nothing was said. Dowager and his people left, and nothing more was said. None of the strange, fearful dark birds were ever seen again. Shortly after, the last Emperor of the royal court died, riddled with genetic disease from centuries of inbreeding. Everyone turned to Theo, hoping he would take up the mantle. Instead, he promoted a strange azure owl with sweeping, ragged feathers as the new Dowager Emperor. The Emperor and his court moved in, and the old, ineffectual court moved out, as did the eighth astrologer. The astrologer moved to the Hulong Moutain, and it was here that he confronted Theo on some of the things that he had seen. He made some more important predictions, and then faded mysteriously into the mists of time.

The Panqua Palace was a royal court no longer. It may have kept the trappings, but it did not serve the original purpose that it had once had. In his last writings, the astrologer once noted that it was "simply a vessel, a storage place of great power, that would someday reawaken to set the world to rights. Someday, when then phonqua has run its full course, a butterfly will disturb the universe and nothing will remain the same…"

Phonqua. More than just a word, but a concept that no Hoolian owl would recognize, nor would they probably have but a basic understanding of it. The ones who would perhaps understand it the best are the Glauxian Brothers to the far North. Put most simply, it could be considered a cycle of lives, where one was continually reborn until they atoned themselves of past sins. It is a common belief in the kingdoms of the Jouzhenkyn. For owls that live several hundred years or more, they have much more time to contemplate the mysteries of life than their shorter lived brethren to the East, far across the Guanjo-Noh.

However, not all owls live as long as others here. A typical owl of the Eastern Kingdoms will live twenty to forty years, perhaps longer if they are lucky. The dragon owls of the Panqua Palace, however, are lucky if they live more than ten. Their lives have been compared to that of a butterfly, a short life filled with beauty and splendor one day, and then gone the next, their whole life over before one could blink an eye.

The dragon owls are perhaps the most well-known for their spectacular plumage. It flows behind them up to twenty feet, and they may only fly with the help of special quis and the coordination of multiple handlers. It is considered a great honor to work for these great owls, and many vie for the position to serve as a servant in the Panqua Palace.

Taya is one of those servants. She is a servant that has loyally served the Palace for several centuries, and it is a running joke among her peers that the day she leaves will be the day the palace falls apart around them. She may not be the head steward, but it is she who does most of the day to day general running of the facility. She strictly adheres to the rules set down by the first H'ryth about how the palace should be run, and rules later amended by the second H'ryth, Meng Theosang.

There are rules on everything from feather care to etiquette to feeding. The dragon owls live in this mockery of a life, but they say they are paying for their past sins. What these sins once were, Taya doesn't know, but she believes that these transgressions must have been great. What could these owls have done in a past life that earned them such a mockery of an existence? A robbery of their own owlness, the catching of prey, their gift of self-powered flight? Taya does not hold the dragon owls in contempt like others do, but she does pity them. A bird that cannot even fly but must depend on others for the illusion of flight is not even a bird at all.

Disturbing news has just come in, and now Taya must deal with it, as she knows the high steward won't. He never does. She ends up following the blathering, flustered page to the room, and is stunned by what she sees. An egg. Every one of the servants who work at the palace know that the gray eggs laid by the dragon owls are sterile. It only if they are colored that they are brooded, for those are the ones that hatch more dragon owls. This egg, however, is not the bright purples, greens, or blues that are the sign of a healthy dragon owl egg. No, this one is black, a dark ebony that rivals that of the darkest night, with an oily shimmer that only adds to the illusion of darkness.

The egg has been brooded by a purple dragon owl called Oolong, who is the mother to many a dragon owl in the Palace. She has had over fifty offspring, and the one thing that gives her more joy in her empty existence than anything else is bringing new life into the world. She would often cry for hours after the sterile eggs were taken away, and often begged that she be allowed to keep them.

Protocol dictates that all sterile eggs be immediately destroyed. This egg, though, is like nothing Taya has ever seen before. A sobbing Oolong is being restrained by several other servants, as she begs them to allow her to return to her nest, where the dark egg is nestled in between several of its brightly colored brethren. Taya is about to speak and issue orders, when the head steward sweeps in, and takes one look at the egg. "Destroy it," he says shortly, "and see that the others are brooded by someone else. Oolong obviously cannot be trusted to raise them, nor can she be trusted to ever raise her own clutches again." With a sweep of the cape he wears, the steward is gone. An agonized cry springs from Oolong's beak as one of the steward's aides snatches the egg and flies away with it. Seconds later, the sickening, wet sound of an egg smashing upon a hard surface is heard. Oolong breaks down into sobbing keens, a shadow of her former self.

The other servants are silent, looking nervously at each other, which leaves Taya to take charge, just as she always does. "Well, don't just stand there! If these eggs go cold, we will lose the next generation of dragon owls, and who knows how that will affect the phonqua?"

A large, elderly turquoise female called Elab volunteers to add the eggs to her own brood, and then quietly tells Taya to please inform Oolong that she may visit them whenever she pleases. Taya takes one look at the servants clumsily attempting to move the eggs, and decides she must go and make sure that the clumsy servants don't drop them. There have already been too many smashings today. "Orlando," she calls to a young male dragon owl standing nearby, "will you please watch Oolong until I get back?"

Orlando is not quite sure what to do with the sobbing mass of feathers that Taya has asked him to watch. He has never been comfortable around other owls, especially not the females of his species. As he sits there awkwardly next to Oolong, he feels that he should at least do _something_, and not stand there like a useless lump of feathers. Carefully moving so as not to hit her with his oversized tail and primary feathers, he gently reaches out and awkwardly puts one of his wings over her, like a parent owl would do for their chicks. He dimly remembers his parents doing the same when he was smaller, and an older palace servant who looked after him when he was older would also put her wings over him and the other juvenile dragon owls when they would return from unpleasant visits to the spirit realm after they woke.

It is said that you experience you past lives when you fall asleep, when you enter the spirit realm. Orlando knows that he must have had many. Every time he visits the spirit realm, what he witnesses is different. _How many lives have I wasted here? _He wonders. _How many lives have I wiled away the time with, trapped in this palace, the hellish prison of splendor, where there is no point to anything at all? What is the purpose of the phonqua? Haven't I already paid for whatever it is I have done? Is there even an end to the cycle or am I cursed to repeat myself until the end of time?_

"No, the cycle is nearing its end." A voice startles the young owl out of his thoughts. Surprised, he looks over and sees Elab looking at him over of the tear-streaked face of Oolong. Orlando realizes that he must have spoken the last of his thoughts unintentionally. "It has to be. The eighth astrologer wrote that the death of an egg as dark as night would herald the beginning of the end. Great evil has managed to tear through and return to this side of the ether veil. I refuse to believe otherwise."

Elab is an owl of few words, but great wisdom. She is the oldest dragon owl living, an incredible fifty years old, five times older than any other. Elab has seen much, and devoted much of her long life contemplating the teachings of the astrologers, especially that of the eighth. She has always adored young things, just as much as Oolong, but in a much different way. "It is no longer safe here, Orlando. I have heard talk, talk of bad things, terrible things, within even the palace itself. Evil has reared its ugly head here. And the smashing of an innocent egg is one of the greatest evils, the greatest travesty one can commit against Glaux. I have heard reports of burnings to the far south, burnings of books and belongings, and even other owls. There has been a great cry to completely wipe out all of our kind. Jouzhenkyn is no longer safe for us, or any owl for that matter."

"What must we do? Or is there anything that can be done at all?" Orlando inquires with a hint of desperation.

Elab looks over at the incoherent Oolong, and then up at the stars themselves. "I do not know," she says finally, and when she does, she speaks slowly, and unsurely. "The eighth astrologer was never clear when he wrote out his predictions. There is much we don't know. He spoke of great destruction, but also of a butterfly that could disturb the universe." Elab turns her head to look down at the shorter Orlando, and speaks with a hushed voice. "The key to ending the phonqua is in the East, I know it. It is the only thing that the astrologer was clear about. He made very sure to make that point well established."

"If only there were someone who could fly there and find this key!" Orlando laments.

"There is no one who can be trusted with such a task."

Orlando ponders Elab's words, and as he does, he feels a stirring of an idea deep inside. It is said that the dragon owls do not have true gizzardly feelings like the true owls do, but to Orlando this idea feels _right_. He cannot explain it other than he feels it in that imaginary organ he isn't supposed to have. He turns to Elab. "If there is no one whom we can entrust with such a task, than I shall do it myself. I shall do as no dragon owl has done since time immemorial. I shall not glide with the help of the qi. I will truly _fly."_

Elab looks startled for a moment, then the look of surprise is replaced by a look of approval. "Yes Orlando, but you will need help. Let us go to the library and see if we can find some books on how to do so. We must also find a knife."

Orlando is so swept up in grand visions of swooping through the sky he almost misses the last part. "Knife? Why is a knife essential to our plans? I can't see why…"

"Feathers, Orlando. One of the reasons we cannot truly fly is our feathers are far too long and heavy. If you are truly going to fly on your own, then those long feathers have got to go!" Elab calls back, as she is already halfway out the door.

He looks after her, beak hanging open, and wilfs. "Wait, what?"


End file.
